


World Waiting On A Miracle

by StuffRocksInnit



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Darkest Timeline, F/M, Post-Canon, The Villain Won, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-01-25
Updated: 2010-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuffRocksInnit/pseuds/StuffRocksInnit
Summary: It is five years since the Varden fell. Eragon and Saphira are bound to the king, the elves and their forest have been destroyed, the dwarves are slaves and the Varden's leaders prisoners.But there is still hope. The New Varden hide in the Spine, waiting.
Relationships: Arya Dröttningu/Eragon Shadeslayer, Murtagh Morzansson/Nasuada
Kudos: 4





	1. In The Beginning, We Are Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Just a quick one-shot, hopefully not too long, inspired by a forum post on Writer's Challenges and the Dwarven Fan Club by Jessi Brooke. Accompanied by my faithful companion (my friend's dog, Alfie) I am going to venture into a very different Alagaesia...

The dungeons reverberated to the sound of screams. Murtagh winced. He hated it down here. But he had to come. Someone was counting on him, down here in the dark.

He reached the cell door and produced a key from the belled sleeve of his tunic. The key ground in the lock, and the heavy wooden door opened. The room inside was dark. Pitch black. He lit a werelight in his palm and made it float to the ceiling. The chained prisoner stirred from her position on the floor and turned to look at him. Her long, matted brown hair hung over empty brown eyes, alight though they were to see him. It made him cringe just to see her thin figure and bruised eyes.

"Did they hurt you again?" he asked softly as he knelt down beside her.

She shifted to face him. "Only a little. I think your warning scared them." He took her hand and she looked down for a moment. "Thank you," she whispered her voice barely audible.

"Next time I'll make sure they don't even touch you," Murtagh growled. Nasuada laughed and leaned back against the cold stone wall. "I've been trying to get you out," the young rider continued. "I don't care what Galbatorix thinks any more; I will get you out of this hell-hole."

Nasuada shifted to sit next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

Murtagh put an arm round her, and they sat for an immeasurable length of time, enjoying the only joy they found in their pitiful existence.

/

Eragon kicked a rock that was near his foot, then contemplated the action. Was it because he hated rocks that he had kicked that poor, innocent little rock? Was it relieve his stress and pent-up anger? Was it because-

_Little one._

_Sorry Saphira. I just find myself thinking about things in that way sometimes. More and more often, lately._

_Maybe it is your inner elf finding a way to express itself._

_Mmmm. Maybe._

_I'm sorry. I shouldn't mention elves._

_It's fine. I have to get over her. I should have already got over her. But..._

_But you have had so long to contemplate it, her death has haunted you._

_Yes._

_I understand._

_I know. You are the only one who understands._

Saphira hummed and rubbed Eragon's shoulder with her nose.

They stood on a large balcony overlooking the dark city of Uru'bean. It was a bright, sunny day, but that did nothing to improve upon the city's appearance. The dragon hold, where Saphira and the other two dragons lived, was deserted. Shruikan had gone to sit in the king's throne room, no doubt to intimidate another set of earls, and Thorn had flown away to the east earlier that morning.

 _Where has Thorn gone?_ Eragon asked absent mindedly.

 _Flying. He didn't tell me anything else. You know how he is sometimes._ Murtagh's voice sounded weary and depressed in his head.

_Do not worry for him, brother. He will come to no harm. Where are you now?_

_Coming. I'll be there in a minute._

Eragon leaned his head on his hands and stared again at the city. He closed his eyes, pulled into the memories that lurked just below the surface of his consciousness.

_Leaping bodies. Flashing swords. A dragon's roar. The last battle of the Varden's great struggle against the Empire. Eragon ran, fast as a hare, dodging the blows directed at him from all sides. He was almost there. Eyes on the prize. The doors. They were open. He flew into the castle, Saphira at his heels. The great doors that lead to the throne room were also ajar, and he sprinted through. Then stopped dead. The evil king smiled, more like a leer. The elf princess was stiff, the blade held to her neck just touching her soft skin._

" _I knew you would come." The king was so self satisfied it glowed in an aura about him. "Now, no word games. Let us get down to business. I have very simple terms. Swear loyalty to me, and she goes free. Tell the Varden to drop their weapons and lay down at my feet, and none of them shall be killed."_

_Arya's eyes told him no, they must keep going, it was worth the sacrifice. Eragon couldn't help it. With a few muttered words in the ancient language, he was bound. A few more, and the Varden were weapon less and prostrate on the floor. The king leered again._

" _So easy to please. But let me show you just what happens to people who betray their friends." And with that, he ran her through. Just like that, she was gone. Her lips formed his name silently as she fell, the evil king pulling his sword free, laughing like a maniac..._

"Eragon?"

Eragon jumped as he was pulled abruptly back to the present. He turned to see his brother in the doorway. He walked over, a worried look crossing his handsome features.

"What is it? You seem troubled..."

Eragon shook his head. "Nothing. Just bad memories." Murtagh nodded. He understood. They stood in silence, watching, faint sounds of city and castle drifting past on the weak breeze.

Their attention was pulled away from this riveting view by the return of Thorn. His swift wings beat carelessly at the air as he glided towards the dragon hold's opening. He joined them a minute later.

 _See anything interesting?_ Murtagh asked.

_No. Just a lot of farms and not a lot of animals._

_Hmmm. Much the same as usual._

_Yes. Windswept and barren._

_Yes. And to think some call that beautiful._

_They are not the ones who have to live there._

_You're right._

"Have you heard about the resistance movement?" Eragon asked aloud.

"A little. I don't think it'll work this time, though. There's too little. What with the elves being killed and their trees being burnt, and the dwarves in slavery in the mines. I hate to sound so hopeless, but this time it really seems like there's nothing we can do."

"Yes. It does seem that way."

/

One hundred leagues away, deep in the Spine, Jormunder was having much the same thoughts. Their leader, Roran Stronghammer, was a good person, with a will and determination of iron, but this time around it really didn't look good. There were less than a thousand people in hiding, and getting food and housing here in this cold and inhospitable environment was tough. They had managed, but only just.

The haggard man walked down the tunnels they had made their home. They had been tunnelled by dwarves many centuries ago when they were trying to use the land for their growing population, but the attempt had been abandoned. But there were many tunnels, and much room. It was almost comfortable.

The plans for the New Varden were simple; forget defeating the Empire for now, and concentrate on surviving. They had been doing well, and were all determined to keep the faith alive.

Many of the Varden's old leaders had been taken by the Empire, so new ones had jumped up in their place.

Lady Nasuada was a prisoner in Galbatorix's dungeon, so Roran was now leader.

There was no Council of Elder's, the member's of whom had all been executed soon after the Varden's downfall. The replacement was the second in command, Jormunder, and third in command, Angela. Jormunder had obvious reasons for being second, and the herbalist had surprisingly leapt at the chance to become important in the New Varden's ranks.

King Orik was a slave in the mines like most of the rest of his race, and there were few in the New Varden.

The elves had been all but destroyed, and there were two in the resistance, Regan and Anclimeé. Their queen, Islanzadi, had died of a broken heart, alone and cold in Galbatorix's prison. Losing her daughter was too much for her to take.

The Surdan's made up most of the rest of the group, but as for their king's fate, no one was really sure. He had last been seen fighting in Uru'bean, but his body had not been recovered from the battlefield. Jormunder was sure Galbatorix would have shown the Varden his body, had it been found. Some said he had escaped, while others said he ran away and as now living in hiding, while still others believed he was a slave in the mines. Jormunder's view was that if the king was still alive, he would probably be in the king's dungeons.

And so the New Varden was formed. They lived a hard live on the slopes of the Spine, rearing and tending their flocks and growing things in terraced fields on the mountainside. No one had discovered them. Yet. But sometimes there would be a spark of panic as one of the two riders flew overhead. They were always way up, obviously not looking for them, but it was good to be cautious.

Sometimes Jormunder would look up at the sky and wish for hope, not fear. Freedom, not oppression. Happiness, not hardship. It was all they could do, now. Look, hope, wish and pray for a miracle.


	2. Kingly Conundrums And Lovers Parted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I finally updated this! Although, the long period of time between the updates was to be expected, as I did say this was a one-shot. Then I had the most appealing idea of making it into a big, long story by combining it with this other idea I had which I was having trouble setting. I think it will work out very well, but you may have to wait for a while before it gets going, as I'd like to try and get my other stories wrapped up so I can focus my whole attention on this one and make it amazing.
> 
> Anyway, I had this written for a while, up the point where the guards come back into the throne room. But after that I was stuck, I couldn't think what the challenge should be, so I left it for ages. I finished it today after much procrastination and hope it's as good as the first chapter and lives up to your expectations.

The throne room was dark and oppressing, as usual. Galbatorix never redecorated. Murtagh stood next to his brother in front of the onyx throne upon which the evil king sat. He played with a corner of the paper he was meant to be reading, not noticing his dragon riders' presence. The silence stretched on immeasurably until Galbatorix looked up lazily.

"Oh, you're here." _As if he hadn't known that for at least the past thirty minutes,_ Murtagh grumbled bitterly.

"Now, I wanted to talk about your current mission. You know what this is?"

Both shook their heads. They had no mission, and Galbatorix knew this. He was playing his favourite game, making them nervous about supposedly forgetting their mission. They were used to it by now, but it still caught out other members of Galbatorix's varied squad of assassins and spellweavers, usually known as the Black Hand.

"Oh, well, I suppose I must explain it to you. You must find this new rebellion. And crush it." They nodded. It was what they had been expecting. "The only place they could be hiding," the king continued, "is the Spine. Go there. Search. Come back with something." He waved a hand, and they were dismissed.

They bowed, turned and walked away, both perfectly in time. It was always the same.

The guards on the door cowered away as they held the heavy wood open. They were scared of the riders, their elf-like features and their aura of power, their feline grace and the way they walked in time, like mirror images of one another. Murtagh hardly noticed.

A few minutes later found them in the high dragon hold, making ready for the trip. The servants bringing supplies had left just moments ago, and all was almost set for departure.

As he tied a bag to Saphira's saddle, Eragon asked, "What chance do you think we have of finding them?" Murtagh grunted, preoccupied with buckling Thorn's saddle.

"Come on!" Eragon whined, "you always think something!"

"I'm not sure," Murtagh sighed, "No one else has been able to find them. Either they've hidden themselves really well, or they don't exist. They haven't actually done anything that shows them as enemies to the Empire yet, in fact there haven't even been any definite sightings. Just whispers, rumours."

"So we're on a wild goose chase."

"Better than being here."

Eragon nodded and swung himself onto Saphira's saddle. Thorn turned his head back to look at his rider.

_Murtagh? Are we going? Murtagh?_

Murtagh hardly heard him. He was looking back towards the door. _Nasuada..._ He couldn't help thinking that something evil would befall her in his absence. He was the only one who cared for her, and he hated leaving her in the clutches of the rough, arrogant prison guards without anyone to watch over her. What if something happened? He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye...

_Murtagh. We have to leave._

_Yes. Sorry._

He too swung into the saddle, tightening the leg straps. With a roar, Saphira lifted her immense azure wings and kicked off, a rush of blasting winter air hitting Murtagh's face in her wake. A second later and Thorn had pushed his hind leg muscles, sweeping his majestic wings downward as he leapt into the air. Uru'bean dwindled below them until it was only an unsightly dot on the vast plain. Murtagh sighed as the wind rushed through his long black hair, making it fan out behind him like a raven's tail. Eragon laughed, happy to be free, if only for a while.

 _This is the way it is meant to be,_ Saphira projected her thoughts to all of them, _us, kings and queen of the sky, with no barriers or chains to hold us down. We were meant to be free._

_/_

There was no light. Not even a chink. How Nasuada hated spending her whole existence in this pitiful darkness.

There was a noise. A key, grating in the lock. Her heart filled with hope, joy. Had he come to see her? The door opened and revealed guards. Nasuada hung her head again, hope gone. There was no one she wanted to see in that doorway, except her rider.

Two guards entered her cell and dragged her upright. She walked with them through the hall outside, the walls dark with blood and grime, screams echoing on the chill air. They rounded a corner and reached the anti-chamber out of which lead tunnels to the other parts of the dungeons. They spread out below the city for miles, some in regular use, some fallen into disrepair, others holding prisoners who had been there for decades. They did not pause, but made their way up the winding staircase that spiralled from the middle of the circular room's floor to the more comfortable levels above.

Along the light hallways they tramped, Nasuada holding no idea as to where they were going. The halls were filled with bright winter sunshine, but they still held an air of dark oppressiveness. They were also cold, although no doubt the corridors and rooms above were heated to a very comfortable level. Another way of setting the lords higher than the peasants; not only were their rooms higher in the castle, nicer in design, brighter and airier, they were always warm in winter. The servants and guards who had their rooms on the floors below, however, could catch a chill or cold from the bitterness of the air.

They came eventually to the high double doors of the throne room. Nasuada could guess what would be coming inside. She only hoped Murtagh and Eragon were not there to watch this time.

The guards on the door heaved them open, letting the Varden's previous leader and her troupe of guards through. The king was seated on his high throne, black as night. The large wall hanging that depicted a map of Alagaesia was pulled back like a curtain, revealing the sinuous lengths of black scales that were Shruikan, Galbatorix's twisted dragon. He sat relaxed, his stance giving off an aura of power and contentment. Nasuada looked away. She hated that dragon.

Galbatorix rose from his seat and spread his arms in a mocking gesture of welcome. "So, my dear rebel leader, you have come to visit. How nice to see you. Tea?" he laughed manically, throwing his head back. Nasuada just glared. "Now, now," Galbatorix said, his voice jovial, "we can't have that frown on your face! What to do to cheer you up? I know!"

The evil king descended the steps towards her, and stood with his hands on his hips in front of her and the guards.

"Now, I'm assuming you remember our dear rider's request to have you freed?" She nodded. She remembered perfectly.

Whack. _Galbatorix laughed as the young woman fell to the floor again. He turned to the stricken man by his side. "Isn't this fun? Don't you just love it?" he asked, then collapsed into a heap of manic giggles again. Nasuada lifted her head and looked at poor Murtagh, so unable to help. He had been bound to stay by Galbatorix's side throughout, and couldn't do anything about it. She knew that, and knew that it wasn't his fault. She didn't blame him, she wasn't angry with him. She loved him unconditionally, and knew he would never hurt her or see her hurt if he could stop it. All the blame rested on the man next to him, the man who laughed still more as he invaded her mind with sharp tendrils of thought, leaving her powerless to move or speak. "So weak!" he laughed as she cried in pain. Pain took over all her thoughts. She couldn't bear to look at Murtagh's face as he struggled against the invisible bonds that held him in place._

_The fist connected with her face one last time, and again she dropped to the floor. This time she was caught before she hit the ground by loving arms that held her softly, cradling her against their owner's warm chest. She buried her face in his tunic and sobbed, feeling similar shakes through his body as he held her. Galbatorix's laughs ceased to matter as they sat there. They were alone in the world. "Well," said the snake voice, breaking them from their bubble of silence, "did you really expect me to let her go unpunished for her crimes? Did you think she would be in the dungeons for the rest of time, you free to visit her whenever?"_

" _No," Murtagh's voice was quiet, but not scared. "I didn't think she would stay there forever."_

_The king laughed. "You thought I would let her go?"_

" _Would you?"_

_It was a question, a plea. Nasuada held her breath. What would the king say?_

_He laughed incredulously. "Is that a request?" She felt Murtagh nod. "Ha!" the king's footsteps echoed as he paced. "You think I'll let her go? Ha!"_

" _Only in the palace," Murtagh mumbled. Galbatorix laughed loudly then was deadly silent. His feet had stopped moving._

" _Well...Maybe it is an idea. I shall think on it. But for now, back to the dungeon. Go." His footsteps turned and walked back up the steps to his throne. Murtagh nodded and gently picked Nasuada up, taking her back through the corridors and down the stairs to her cell. There, he sat her up against a wall and knelt beside her, passing soft fingers over her face and whispering words of healing._

_When it was done, she pushed his checking hands away and squeaked, "Oh Murtagh, I can't believe you actually did it!" The rider shrugged and murmured something. She threw her arms round him and hugged him tight..._

The king smiled as she returned to the present. "I have made my decision." He announced.

Nasuada looked round, confused. "Where's Murtagh?" she asked.

"He had to go on another mission," Galbatorix sighed airily. "Sad, that. He'll never know that this happened, if you fail."

"Fail at what?" Nasuada asked cautiously.

The king laughed his manic laugh. "You didn't think I'd just let you go, did you? And they called you smart..." _I should've guessed there would be something more to it._ Nasuada thought.

Galbatorix clicked a finger and guards trouped in. "The task." He said simply. They nodded and left the room again. Galbatorix steepled his fingers and sat back comfortably. Minutes passed, in which Nasuada wondered what the task could be, and what was so important that Murtagh had to miss this to deal with it.

Finally, the guards returned. With them, they carried a large table, two glasses and a bottle of wine. They placed them between Nasuada and the king, bowed and left. Galbatorix got up gracefully from his throne and came to stand on the other side of the table.

"I assume you are familiar with games of wit such as these?" Nasuada nodded. It was a simple game, usually used for fun between nobles or in place of a duel in more deadly cases. Two glasses were set out on a table, filled with wine. The challenger (in this case Nasuada) either looked away or was taken to another room. The defender, Galbatorix, would then add poison to one of the glasses. The challenger would then return and have to guess which the poisoned glass was. When they had decided, they had to drink. The other would drink too. If the glass was filled with a deadly poison, the first to fall lost. Usually, though, the drug put into the glass would only make the drinker fall asleep, feel ill or throw up. Nasuada guessed that she wouldn't have that kind of luck today.

"Turn around." Nasuada did so. She heard him uncork the bottle and pour two glasses. Then came a rustle of fabric. She guessed he had the poison hidden in his garments. There were more rustles and soft noises, until the king said, "It is done."

She turned back around and beheld the full glasses standing on the table. They were both identical. She took a deep breath, but before she had chance to start her reasoning, Galbatorix clicked his fingers. She looked to the side as a door opened and a scared young man of about twenty five walked in. He bowed to the king and stepped up to the table.

It didn't surprise her. Of course the king would not risk his health by drinking some potentially poisoned wine. Why would he, when he could get some underling to do it in his place?

She looked into the scared face of the man, then away. She could not think about how he would suffer if she made the right choice. That was just the way it was.

She contemplated the wine glasses before her once more. She had seen others play this game, and a kindly dwarf back in Tronjheim had explained it to her once. However, she still had no idea of how to decide which glass to pick.

_Oh, gods. I'm going to die! Die! I'll never see Murtagh again..._

No, Nasuada, said a strong voice in her head. You are _not_ going to die. Please stop being so hysterical and try to think logically.

She considered the glasses in front of her from many points of view. Then she considered what she knew of the king.

He valued his own live above anything else, so therefore it made sense for him to put the poison as far away from himself as possible, in her glass.

However, he was also very shrewd. He knew she would guess that he would not want to put the poison in his own glass, so it also made sense for him to put the poison in his glass, to trick her.

But what if he knew that she would guess that he would trick her by doing that? Then he would have put it in her glass.

But he could also have known that she would guess that he would double trick her, so he could have put the poison in his own glass.

 _Put simply,_ Nasuada thought, _he could have put it in_ either _glass._

She gasped softly as she realised. The whole game was chance. Pot luck. He could have put it in either glass, so how was she to guess which one it was with reasoning? She would be there for days. It was impossible. So, the only option left was to pick either glass and drink out of it. It wasn't a choice she liked, but it was her only one.

She extended an arm and gracefully plucked the glass nearest to her from the table. The young man did the same. She gave a small, wry half smile, and drank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, please review and tell me what you think. I hope it was reasonably up to standard, and hope I get the astounding response I got for the first chapter! I was amazed!
> 
> Hopefully it really won't be too long before I can really get started on this. Hope you can all wait until then (I notice I'm doing a lot of hoping in these two AN's. I should really stop).
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	3. Alarm Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another chapter. I have to say I am sorry for how long this took, but I was busy and couldn't really find a way to start it.
> 
> Enjoy.

Jormunder woke up to the sound of loud voices and bells ringing. He sat up, instantly wide awake. The noise was all around, urgent shouting and the constant hammering on the alarm bells. He threw back the bed sheets and jumped out, bare feet hitting the cold stone floor.

A minute later he was running out of his door, fully dressed. He ran through the throngs of scared people towards Roran's chambers. Outside the door he met the man himself, along with Angela and other important figures from the New Varden.

"What is going on?" he gasped.

Roran frowned. "The riders have been spotted, lower than they have ever flown before. They're looking for us."

Chill fear gripped Jormunder, but he fought it down. Now was not the time for hysterics. "Right," he said, trying to sound confident and calm, "What is our plan?"

"The riders are a fair way away. They were spotted by sentries from far down the valley. We are pulling the cover sheet over now, which should keep the outside hidden. While that is going on, we will move everyone further back into the caves."

"But Roran," an old man said from the side of the group, "what if the cover sheet does not fool the riders? Surely they will find the entrance to the caves, and moving further back will trap us with our backs to a wall?"

"I have thought about that," the young leader replied, "but this seems the only sure way to give us enough time. We should be able to get to another exit if the riders get into the front entrance, if we get closer to it by moving back."

Everyone nodded. "Right, you've all heard the plan!" Angela cried, rubbing her hands together. "Let's get going!" Another nod and all of them scattered. Jormunder turned and rushed off too, heading toward his predetermined evacuation point where he would help organise the moving of the hundreds of people further back into the mountain.

/

A few leagues away, the two riders and dragons swooped through the small valley, heading to its end.

Murtagh focused on the protruding spurs of rock, navigating them swiftly and with utmost care. Behind him, Eragon and Saphira followed his lead.

 _Are we nearly there, Murtagh?_ Eragon asked him.

_I think so. The valley is getting narrower._

They soared around another edge of rock and the valley's end opened up before them. It was exactly the same as the rest of the land, a low forest of rippling trees of all different types. Absolutely no sign of even the smallest of encampments.

 _Damn._ Eragon cursed as he pulled up next to his brother. _This is the last valley where there have been sightings. What do we do now?_

_I suppose we will have to go back to the palace and tell the King that the new rebellion does not exist. It is either that or start searching every valley in the Spine._

_Which is probably what we will be doing in a few days when we are sent back here._ Eragon said with humour coloured with no small amount of bitterness.

Murtagh snorted. Then he said to Thorn, _Let's go back._

_I can't whether I like it better here or there._

Murtagh laughed as Thorn wheeled round and headed back the way they had come.

/

Roran was sitting at the opening of a huge cavern where a couple of hundred people where gathered. They were all waiting tensely for the all clear.

The quiet was broken suddenly as a messenger came running down the tunnel. Roran stood as the man reached him. "What can you report?"

The messenger breathed hard for a moment before answering; "They were fooled. They left a half hour ago, and have not returned."

Roran smiled, then turned and shouted, "They are gone!" A resounding cheer answered his words. "Now," he said, turning back to the group he had been talking to about strategy just a moment earlier, "how about we get everyone back to normal life?"

/

Murtagh's spirits began to flag when the black city appeared on the horizon. Soon they were close enough to make out the tiny details, and the young rider sighed, his shoulders sagging. Back into hell, he thought miserably. He saw similar feelings mirrored on Eragon's face, and knew that Thorn felt the same.

They landed a few minutes later, spiralling down to land on the clear floor. Murtagh swung off Thorn's back, landing with his knees bent. He turned and closed his eyes, running a weary hand over his face. The sound of running footsteps made him jump. He opened his eyes in time to see a mass of brown and red hit him with some force, wrapping arms around him and whispering, "He let me go! He let me go!"

He wrapped his own arms around Nasuada's thin back and held her tightly. "How?" he said into her ear.

She pulled back and looked up into his face. "I missed you."

He smiled. "And I you. I'm sorry I didn't have time to say goodbye."

She waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. Where did you go, anyway?"

He sighed. "Looking for the new rebellion." Seeing her expression, he added, "We found nothing, however." She relaxed and smiled slightly.

"Murtagh, now we are here, what-" Eragon stopped as he came out from behind Thorn and saw Nasuada standing there in his brother's arms. "Nasuada?" he asked, an expression of wonder replacing the usual melancholy on his face.

Nasuada laughed, a sound that filled Murtagh's heart with unexpected joy. "Yes, it is me. Galbatorix let me out of the dungeon!"

"Why?" Eragon asked, amazed.

"Yes, I was wondering as much myself," Murtagh said, turning his face back to her beautiful one.

Nasuada smiled at him. "It was because of you. You asked him to, and he did."

Murtagh mouth formed a small 'o', and Eragon gasped, "He let you out just like that?"

Nasuada shook her head. "No, I had to pass a test first. Do you remember that game you play with poisoned wine glasses?" Both nodded. "We played that and I won. Unfortunately Galbatorix himself didn't drink the poisoned wine, but..." she ended the sentence with a shrug. Murtagh nodded and hugged her again.

Eragon smiled and returned to Saphira's side to unbuckle her saddle. The great dragoness turned her head to look at him.

_How is it that I never knew about those two?_

Eragon looked up at her, surprised. _You didn't? I'm sorry; I thought I had told you._

Saphira lifted her head and sniffed. _Oh well. I'll forgive you, I suppose._

Eragon looked down and chuckled under his breath. Behind him, Thorn humphed. _I know you are happy to see her again, Murtagh, but this saddle does begin to itch._

Murtagh looked up and blushed slightly. _Sorry, Thorn._ He smiled at Nasuada and reluctantly let her go to undo Thorn's saddle. She smiled at his back and wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes and sighing contently. Maybe things would be better from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. New chapter coming soon. Please R&R! Thanks for reading.


	4. The Mission Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, wow, another update! Hope it lives up to the rest, I quite like this one actually, it finally starts opening up the start of the story proper. I'm actually really excited about writing this story; hopefully someone somewhere is as excited about reading it!

"So you didn't find them. How disappointing." Galbatorix paced, his hands clasped behind his back. Murtagh and Eragon waited before him in silence.

"I have to say, I though you would do better. But no matter," he waved a hand, "I have something more important to interest me. Look at this map," he motioned to the wall hanging which hung in front of Shruikan's private part of the room. They moved over to it with him. He gestured to a spot in the northern reaches of the Spine. "This place. What is special about it?"

Eragon and Murtagh glanced at each other. "Nothing we know of, lord, except that it is in the Spine."

"Mmmm, hmmm," Galbatorix hummed quizzically to himself, "and if I were to tell you that there was something special in this part of the Spine?"

The riders were once again confused. "That would depend on the nature of its specialness, your majesty."

Galbatorix turned to them with a strange smile. "My my, you two are getting good at giving non committal answers. Very well, I will tell you the nature of its specialness." He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers over the phrase, then turned back to the map and pointed out the spot again.

"This place has long been spoken of in ancient texts, although I have never been able to find its whereabouts until yesterday, when I came upon a text in the very back of the library which I had never seen before. Not a curious thing, given the size of that place. However, returning to the point, in this location is a temple. The Temple of the Heart, or Du Garan abr du Hjarta in some texts. In ancient times many rituals were performed there, and people went to be healed by the priests there. But that is useless to us. What interests me is the mention of a fantastically powerful object hidden within the Temple, known as the Heart of Alagaesia. If I could get my hands on that much power," his eyes lit up with manic fervour, "then I would be unstoppable. No one could oppose me. So," he turned briskly and walked back to the throne, Eragon and Murtagh trailing like wraiths behind him, "we need to get up there and find this temple. I will be coming on this expedition too."

The riders stared at him in surprise. "Don't look at me like that," he snapped, scowling, "I'm allowed to leave my castle if I want to. Now, the supplies are just about ready, we will be off within the day. I'm sending behind us the Black Guard, in case we find this temple protected." Murtagh and Eragon shivered. The Black Guard were the Custodians of the Citadel, a highly trained elite unit hand picked for their cruelty, brutal nature and unmatched battle skills. If there were any guards at that temple, they were in for a sorry end.

"Now, there's no time to lose!" Galbatorix jumped on the spot and twirled towards a concealed door hidden in the shadows behind the throne. "Exit through here, please. I have some guests to deal with before we depart. Go up to the dragon hold and check everything is prepared."

"Yes, my lord," the dragon riders murmured, moving out of the door. As it shut behind them, they heard the larger throne room doors open. Neither said a word, but they knew from the look on the king's face that he would enjoy the meeting with his guests. And that most likely meant that whoever the guests were, their encounter with the king would not end happily.

Murtagh and Eragon made their way through the castle, ignoring the terrified looks from servants and courtiers who jumped when they passed or crossed corridors to avoid getting in their way. While Eragon contemplated this 'Temple of the Heart', Murtagh's heart was full of sorrow at the thought of having to leave again, so soon after Nasuada had been free from her captivity. As they reached the floor that her room was on, Murtagh stopped and turned to Eragon. "Do you mind if I quickly go and tell her where we're going?"

Eragon simply nodded. He had no need to ask who 'her' was. He carried on towards the dragon hold while Murtagh rushed down the right hand corridor. He reached Nasuada's room a minute later and hastily knocked on the door. She answered a moment later, not surprised to see him. "Hello. I thought you had a meeting with Galbatorix?"

"We did," Murtagh said, nodding and moving into the room, "it was short. But I have bad news."

Nasuada came to sit beside him on the bench he had sat upon. "Oh, what is that?"

Murtagh sighed. "Galbatorix thinks he's found some ancient power source. He's really excited about it, so he's actually going to leave the castle and look for it. We, obviously, have to go with him."

Nasuada sighed heavily. "And so soon after you got back…" she said sorrowfully.

Murtagh moved closer and hugged her to him. "I know. I don't want to leave you again." She snuggled into his arms and there they stayed, lost in the moment.

 _Murtagh? I'm sorry to pull you away, but the king will be here soon…_ Thorn's voice was all apologies. Murtagh sighed, a habit he was falling into. "I have to go, Nasuada," he kissed her forehead; "I'll be back as soon as possible, I promise." She nodded, biting her lip, tears filling her eyes. He bent his head and kissed her softly before pulling gently and reluctantly from her arms and crossing the room.

She came after him and pulled him into a tight hug just before he opened the door. "I'll miss you," she whispered.

He hugged her tighter. "And I you…We'll be back as soon as we can." They let go of each regretfully, and Murtagh left for the dragon hold. By the time he got there, Eragon had already saddled both Saphira and Thorn and was waiting for him on his dragon's back. "Come on, Murtagh," Eragon moaned loudly as he walked in, "what would I have done if the king had turned up?"

Murtagh smiled. "I'm sorry, Eragon. Thank you for saddling Thorn for me." Eragon humphed and didn't say anything, but his slight smile said everything for him. Murtagh laughed and pulled himself onto Thorn's back.

 _Are you settled?_ His dragon asked, turning his head to look back at him. Murtagh nodded, knowing that Thorn's question didn't just refer to his current seating.

A minute later, a manically happy looking Galbatorix arrived. He surveyed the scene slowly before clicking his fingers. The air pounded as it was compressed, and Shruikan landed next to the black king. Galbatorix stared at him for a minute, communicating something, and then climbed onto his back. He raised a hand, and the great black dragon opened his wings and took off. Saphira opened her azure wings at the same time as Thorn unfurled his own wine-tinted ones, and they took off together.

As they rose into the late afternoon sky, Galbatorix and Shruikan turned northwards and set off on a straight course towards the mountains. The two other riders fell in behind him, and resigned themselves to long hours of silent flying. Murtagh stared towards the distant mountains, not yet even a shadow on the horizon, and wondered what could possibly be out there had stirred Galbatorix so much that he left his castle for the first time in nearly a hundred years.


	5. The Peaceful Method

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, an update. There's lots of snow here and its half term, so I find myself making sufficient inroads into this story. This chapter moves on the action from almost where it left off; I felt I should probably revisit the New Varden, but I didn't want to write a filler chapter, and nothing was happening with them, so I abandoned that idea and got straight to the action. Enjoy.

Eragon's view of the slopes below twisted as Saphira's flight pattern took her on a tightly curving path through the peaks. The bare rocky slopes below bore no resemblance to the densely forested area he had once known; it seemed that they must be very far from that part of the Spine, but Galbatorix insisted that they were only a few leagues up the coast from where the island of Vroengard was situated.

Only the upper halves of most peaks were bare rock; the lower halves were mainly grassland, alpine meadows blooming with flowers and with only sparse tree life. It was quite pretty, really. Eragon would have liked to have landed and spend some time resting and enjoying the beautiful scenery and pleasant atmosphere, but the king was pushing tirelessly on in his attempt to find the hidden temple. They'd been on the move for over two weeks with little time to rest, so it was no wonder Eragon felt he was falling asleep half of the time. Galbatorix, however, never seemed to lose his manic energy. _Whatever is at this temple had better be good, for it to be worth this much,_ Eragon thought irritably. _If it even_ exists, _that is._ He and Murtagh had been debating whether or not the temple was likely to exist in any place but the mad king's mind whenever they had had a spare moment. Murtagh sourly believed that there was no chance of finding it, but Eragon was a little more uncertain. If it was really likely that the temple didn't exist, why would Galbatorix have left his castle? It wasn't like that was a usual thing for him to do.

 _We're very close now._ Galbatorix's mental voice made Eragon jump. He refocused on the world passing below them and saw that were heading around a very wide peak. _It should be just behind this mountain…_ Galbatorix informed them. Eragon and Murtagh shared a sceptical glance behind the king's back. _It won't be there,_ Eragon thought. _Well, at least then we can go back to Uru'baen._

What they saw around the mountain, however, proved Eragon ever so slightly wrong.

Six pairs of eyes opened wide as they took in the scene before them. In a deep V between two mountain peaks a wide stretch of meadow was dominated by a large building. It was comprised of a thick outer wall shielding various smaller buildings, most of a roughly square design, inside. The largest building was at the centre of the temple, and it rose reasonably high over the other one-story buildings. All of the buildings were made from bright white stone, apart from the main building which had a dark red roof. It was like a small city, but only a handful of small dots that were people could be seen moving within the walls. Eragon suspected that the temple must be more than half empty.

They hovered in the air above the amazing sight, trying to believe what they were seeing. "I guess this is what we were looking for," Murtagh murmured in wonder.

"Du Garan abr du Hjarta," Galbatorix murmured. The dragon riders looked at him warily. His voice was filled with manic fervour, and his eyes brimmed with greed and power lust. "The Heart of Alagaesia is said to reside inside that place, and it looks to have absolutely no guarding force whatsoever!" He launched into a manic laugh that echoed slightly through the air around them. "Nothing can stand in my way now!" he roared when he had recovered, "Nothing and no one will be able to stop me!"

Eragon fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. This man really was mad. But he was also clever, cunning, and above all extremely powerful, and that was where the danger lay.

"What would you have us do, sire?" Murtagh asked quietly.

"We should be able to walk right in and take whatever we please," Galbatorix smirked, "so just jump in there and wave your swords around a little until you have everything under control, and then I'll ask whoever is in charge where I can find the Heart. So, go on, snap to."

Quietly sighing, riders and dragons veered steeply towards the ground. Pulling out of the fast dive, they both landed on the outer wall, above the main gate. They sat there for a second, at a loss. "What does he expect us to do?" Eragon asked, "Just tell them to step back and let us take the Heart?"

"Yes, but we'll do it in a clever way. Let's land on the ground."

Saphira and Thorn touched down on the paving that lined the city streets. As soon as the riders had dismounted, there were guards grouped in semi circle around them, pointing spears in a threatening manner. The threat was negated, however, by the fact that the spears and the armour too were all in need of some serious repair. Obviously there would be no challenge if it came to a fight. These people had never fought in a battle before and probably barely knew how to use the weapons they were carrying. Years of peaceful hiding had made them weak, and the legs of the young men standing around them were almost imperceptibly shaking.

Murtagh walked forward and raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Peace, citizens. We are not here to do you harm."

One of the guards lowered his spear slightly. "Oh? Then what are you here for?" he asked, his bravado undermined by a slight quaver.

"We seek only peace," Murtagh lied. "We have discovered this place by accident, and the king wishes it to be made known that you are welcome and cherished citizens of the Empire and will be treated as such."

"The false king's empire extends this far, does it?" the man sneered. "We want nothing to do with you, your king or your empire. Leave."

Murtagh frowned slightly. "Shouldn't it be up to whoever leads this place as to whether you accept us or not?" he asked quietly.

Some of the guards looked doubtful. The man, who was obviously their leader, said, "Fine. We'll take you to him, but he will give you the same answer." With that, the guards regrouped into a circle around the dragon riders. They were led away up the wide main street to the grand doors of the main temple building. It rose four stories above them and was quite impressive. They were led through the doors, across a wide entrance hall and through a convoluted series of corridors before reached another large door. "Through here," the leader of the guards barked, and stood back.

Eragon and Murtagh advanced through the door and found themselves in a bright room lit by the light of what must have been thousands of candles, glimmering all around the room. An old man sat in a chair with his back to them. Murtagh cleared his throat, and the man looked around.

"Oh?" he said, getting out of his chair quite unlike an old man and looking them up and down, "and who are you two?"

Murtagh inclined his head towards the man. "Forgive us for breaking your peace so, but we discovered the temple here while surveying the mountains. We come from the king and bring good tidings; your land and people are fully welcome citizens of the Empire and will be helped in any way possible."

The man looked at him critically. "And why should we renounce our independence and bow to your king?"

Murtagh barely hid a grimace. "Because our king is a wonderful leader with an amazing vision of unity and peace between all nations and people, all under one rule. Our glorious Empire will spread across the land and become a peaceful and prosperous nation that all will dream of living in. There will be no more poverty and hardship and the great Empire will endure for millennia, all under the watchful eyes of our great and mighty king."

The old man was barely hiding a smile. "You lie through your teeth, but you lie well. Only I, who have trained in truth reading people's expressions for most of my life, would have been able to see through your words." He said nothing else, just regarded them with a quiet smile, and Murtagh bit his lip, now slightly unsure of himself.

After a long pause, the old man declared, "There is nothing that will make I or my citizens join or even respect the Empire. I pity you your situations, locked in the Empire's grasp, but I can offer you no help. Go as well as you can, unhappy ones, and may you find peace at some point, even if it is in Death's cold embrace." He turned and sat down again, back to them.

Murtagh ducked his head and turned to leave. Eragon felt the same disappointment. Now that the peaceful method had failed, Galbatorix would use force.

They left the way they had come, accompanied by the guards, and mounted their dragons. Flying off into the bright blue sky, Murtagh asked quietly, _What do you think it will take for their leader to surrender?_

Eragon knew what he meant. _How many do you think will have to die?_

 _I don't know,_ he replied. _I just hope it's not too many,_ he added silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go. Hopefully the next chapter will be along soon, I don't have much to do as of late. The next chapter will probably just carry on from this point, which I don't think will disappoint too many people; the New Varden aren't exactly going to be doing anything much if I write about them, so I'm sure we can live without them for the moment. Thanks for reading.


	6. Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done. As you can tell, I don't update often, even less now I have my Xbox. But fear not, the story will go on. Slowly.

With a thump, the two dragons alighted on the rock shelf where the king was waiting. He looked up lazily as the two dragon riders approached him. "What is your news?" he asked after they had knelt before him.

"They will not accept your offer peacefully, your majesty." Murtagh said quietly.

Galbatorix nodded. "I thought as much. Well, the Black Guard will be here by sunset. A clear cut track between the mountains was found, obviously to supply or lead to this place. You will wait here until they arrive." With that he turned and climbed onto Shruikan, who opened his massive wings and flew away, buffeting both riders and dragons with gusts of air so powerful they were almost knocked over.

As the king and his dragon dwindled to black specks on the horizon, Murtagh set about gathering sticks and wood for a fire, while Eragon found a few sparse wild herbs and edible plants to supplement the meagre supplies he had brought with him. All in all it wasn't a good meal, but it filled their stomachs and gave them something to do. When they finished, they sat in silence and contemplated the fire, which was growing in brightness now that the day was nearing its close. A spectacular sunset filled the middle of two near peaks with fire, a burning brilliance that painted the valley and the opposite peaks blood red. The brothers watched in wonder as the brilliant orb sank below the high horizon. Then, almost instantly, the world was dark.

The fire spat sparks up into the air. Eragon watched them mulishly. It had been two hours since sunset, and there had been no sign of the Guard. They had eaten the last of the supplies for their evening meal, relying on the fact that the Guard would be bringing food enough to feed them. They had been taking turns watching the valley floor a mile below for any sign of life. So far all they had seen were a few deer and a herd of mountain goats.

Tramping footsteps announced Murtagh's return. "Nothing," he grumbled as he sat down, "I knew they'd never make it here by sunset."

"All we can hope is that they are here by morning, else we'll have to collect our own food."

Murtagh snorted. "Shouldn't be too hard for me. There must be some small creatures around here somewhere. I wouldn't like to be you, though. The very idea of eating those berries makes me sick."

Eragon looked at him slyly. "What if I told you you'd already eaten them, in your soup?"

Murtagh looked aghast. "What?!"

Eragon laughed. "I'm joking. Those berries are poisonous."

Murtagh scowled. "I knew they looked off," he muttered.

Eragon exhaled loudly and got up. "I'll take my turn at watching. It's dark, so you should try and get some rest. If they don't arrive, I'll wake you in three hours."

Murtagh nodded and retrieved his bedroll from Thorn's saddle bags, which lay on the floor beside the large dragon. Thorn raised his head and looked at Murtagh. _Will you sleep under here, little one?_ He asked, lifting one wing. Murtagh smiled and moved underneath the proffered wing.

He laid his bedroll out and lay down on his back, looking up at the red ceiling of his dragon-tent. _What made you want me to sleep under here, Thorn?_ He asked.

 _I like having you somewhere where no one can get to you without me knowing._ Thorn said as he settled himself comfortably. Murtagh smiled and closed his eyes.

/

The stars shone brightly above Eragon as he watched the valley below. Nothing moved in the darkness, but he wasn't watching too carefully. If the Guard arrived, he would see them, and he could think of no other threat to himself and his party. So he gazed up at the stars, dimly aware of Saphira in the back of his mind. She was asleep, and dreaming. He smiled, closed his eyes and watched her dream of chasing Thorn over scenery that looked similar to Leona Lake. She almost caught the end of his tail, but he dived into the silvery surface of the lake before she could. With a bugle of joy, she followed and became lost in shifting visions of fish and coolness. Eragon grinned at her happiness and came back to his own mind.

Surveying the scene below, he could see nothing out of the ordinary. He turned his eyes back to the stars, wondering at their beauty and vast size. He was just wondering what it would be like to fly up amongst those stars when something hit him very hard on the back of the head, and his vision went black.

Coming to, Eragon groaned. His head hurt. Damn. He opened his eyes and blinked blearily against the light. Fumbling, he found ground with his hand and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked around and took in his surroundings. He was in a large, plain white room with no windows. Sitting leaning against the opposite wall was Murtagh, with Thorn curled up next to him. Eragon turned his head to find Saphira sitting close to him, looking at him with concern in her eyes.

_Eragon! You're awake. Do you feel alright?_

_A little sore, but I'll recover._

"You're awake, then?" Murtagh said. "How's the head?" His tone was moody and slightly confrontational.

"It'll mend," Eragon said carefully. "Where are we?"

"In the temple," Murtagh replied tersely. "All thanks to the witless wonder, of course."

Eragon frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You, you idiot! You were supposed to be keeping a lookout! Those dumb village men came sneaking right up behind you and whacked you on the head! And then they threatened to kill you if we didn't come quietly."

Eragon's cheeks burned. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking down. "I didn't think anyone would want to attack us."

Murtagh huffed angrily and lapsed into silence. Eragon let him simmer for a while, then asked, "What do they want with us?"

"They're going to keep us hostage until Galbatorix goes away. Or they may just kill us."

"Oh. Well. Wha-" Before Eragon could finish his sentence, the doors to the room swung open and the old man came inside flanked by about twenty guards. He surveyed the scene before him like a lord. Murtagh glared back with flashing eyes.

The old man looked a minute longer, then signalled. One of the guards came forward and dumped a tray on the ground. It had two hunks of bread and two glasses of water on it. Another guard threw two pieces of raw meat down beside it. The old man nodded, took one last look, then exited the room followed by the guards. Murtagh glared after them, muttering something, then moved over to the tray. He picked it up and brought it to the middle of the room, then went back for the raw meat and placed it there too. He then sat down and began to eat, Thorn coming to crouch beside him and tear at the meat.

Eragon got up and sat on the opposite side of the tray. He chewed the bread slowly, and Saphira had almost finished licking her claws when he finally finished the glass of water. Murtagh had finished a while ago, but hadn't moved. He sat looking at the floor with an expression of profound sorrow. Eragon frowned and said, "Murtagh?" very quietly.

His brother looked up and met his questioning eyes. He smiled ruefully. "I suppose I can forgive you," he said. "At least they're not starving us."

Eragon smiled as well, but his face fell into a mask of worry as he asked, "But what were you thinking about, when you had that look on your face just now?"

Murtagh's face became sorrowful again. "I was just thinking how we may not get out of this, you know. Get back." Eragon nodded. He noticed often how Murtagh usually fell to thinking about his death when they were in situations like this. He knew it must be because his brother feared dying away from Nasuada. He made him very lonely to think of the connection they shared.

However, he smiled cheerfully and said, "Come on, Murtagh, do you really think this lot will kill us? They don't have the guts. We'll soon be back in Uru'baen and you'll be reunited with Nasuada."

Murtagh laughed. "Even when I don't say it, you still know I'm thinking about her." He chuckled some more.

Eragon smiled sadly. "Too much being around Roran, I suppose. He was always thinking about Katrina, just like you do about Nasuada."

Murtagh looked at his brother sympathetically. "Eragon," he said, and Eragon looked up at him. "You know Roran's just got to be alive out there somewhere," Murtagh continued. "He's far too stubborn to die without defeating Galbatorix. Hell, it's probably him who's leading this new rebellion. He wouldn't die without completing something he started."

Eragon smiled. "You're probably right. He'll be out there, leading people to freedom, while we're stuck here, captured by the village idiots."

Murtagh laughed. "So much for the great dragon riders, eh?"

Eragon laughed with him, and Saphira and Thorn laughed their deep dragon laughs too. Even captured and imprisoned, they still had almost everything in the world that mattered to them; each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploader's Note: This story is discontinued.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jessi Brooke for giving the challenge. Hope this lives up to your expectations.
> 
> Just in case anyone asks, I may continue this. But not for a while. I have too much else to do.
> 
> Please, review if you like. All comments, good or bad, are appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and goodnight.


End file.
